


Calls me home

by Elisexyz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (individual warnings in the chapters), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Sickfic, Tallahassee AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-07-20 20:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Thirty-five ways you said "I love you".1. As we huddle together, the storm raging outside.“The world is just ending around us and you were sleeping through it.”2. As a goodbye.“I just wish we had had more time, that’s all.”3. As a thank you.“You’ll get sick too.”5. Muffled, from the other side of the door.“Go away, Neal.”6. Not said to me.“Come on, Henry, let Daddy go.”14. Over a beer bottle.“Hey. Got room for another one in there?”





	1. As we huddle together, the storm raging outside.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Basically I found [this list](http://oh-nostalgiaa.tumblr.com/post/173830212630/the-way-you-said-i-love-you) on Tumblr titled "The way you said 'I love you'" and I really liked it, so I decided to write a couple of ficlets inspired by it, and _then_ I decided to share it with the other like maybe three (?) people who are still reading Swanfire fic. Because why not.  
>  I don't know when/if I'll manage to write them all, but I'll try. I really like these prompts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fluff and cuddles in the Bug. I need Swanfire fluff in my life.

If Emma hadn’t gathered that Neal is an heavy sleeper already, this would be definitive proof: since when she woke up to the sound of a thunder so loud that she’s fairly sure it was right above their heads, she hasn’t been able to get any sleep, because whenever she shuts her eyes she can’t help being bothered by the sound of the rain falling on the roof of the car –it’s so _loud_ that she’s beginning to wonder if it’s not actually ice – and then startled by another thunder.

It’s even worse when she opens her eyes just in time to catch sight of a lightening bolt and she’s then stuck waiting for the thunder to come, _knowing_ that it will startle her even if she’s expecting it.

And Neal? Neal _nothing_ , he’s sleeping like a baby in the backseat of the car – because it’s his turn, and right now Emma is regretting not letting him be a gentleman about it and always leave her the most comfortable arrangement, because maybe it would help her relax a bit.

She lets out an annoyed sigh, grimacing at yet another thunder and bitterly thinking that it’s not _fair_ that he manages to sleep through all that mess and she can’t even get _close_ to getting some shut-eye, stuck awake on her own.

She isn’t even _that_ afraid of storms, but once in foster care she met a kid whose parents had been killed by a lightening bolt, just like an uncle of his apparently, and he kept going on and _on_ about it, adding useful guidelines on what not to do when you are caught in a thunderstorm – including but not limited to hiding under trees –, and Emma can’t help wondering if there are trees around them, because there’s too much rain and it’s too dark to check, and if cars are likely to attract lightening anyway.

“Neal,” she says, loudly, giving in to the temptation of getting out of her miserably lonely state. “ _Neal_ ,” she insists, turning around so that she can reach for his shoulder and shake him.

Neal comes to with a displeased grunt that sounds like it should be followed by a question mark, blinking a couple of times before his eyes seem to focus.

“Morning already?” he asks, pushing himself up a bit so that he can check outside, one eye still closed.

Emma feels the knot in her stomach ease a bit. “ _No_ ,” she says, and it comes out a bit snappy. “The world is just ending around us and you were _sleeping_ through it.”

Neal stares at her for a few seconds, considering her words, then he takes a good look outside as if he was actually assessing the situation to verify the legitimacy of her claim.

“It’s just a storm,” he declares, suppressing a yawn.

Right on cue, a thunder follows his words, and Emma jumps a little on her seat.

“A _loud_ one,” she complains.

Neal gives her a thoughtful look. “Are you afraid?” he asks, and he manages not to make it sound teasing or judgemental, at least.

“It just makes it difficult to relax,” she says, and it’s not even a lie.

“Mmh,” Neal mumbles, thoughtfully. “Okay, come here,” he adds then, moving so that he’s sitting with his back against the door and patting the empty space next to him.

“It’s your turn.”

Neal shrugs. “We can share. Come on.”

 _Well, if you insist_ …

Sliding in the backseat without getting out of the car is no piece of cake, and even if Neal tries to make himself small in a corner so that she can have more space to move, she ends up stepping on his foot, getting hit by his knee and elbowing him in the stomach. They both draw a sigh of relief when they manage to find a comfortable position, which basically involves Neal serving as her pillow when she gets comfortable between his legs, back against his chest.

“Are we good?” he asks, wrapping his arms around her. She shifts a bit, holding onto his arms as well.

“Well, _I_ am,” she replies. “Isn’t the door destroying your back or something?”

“Nah, I’ve slept in worse places.”

She would be inclined not to believe him and write it off as bravado to not make her uncomfortable, but as far as she knows the guy sleeps like a rock no matter how uncomfortable the position, so…

“Do cars attract lightening?” she ends up asking, when another thunder rumbles above them.

There’s a pause. “Nah,” he says. “We’re good.”

She’s pretty sure that he doesn’t know shit about physics and that he’s just trying to be helpful, but it’s fine: she’s feeling much calmer already. Which rationally makes zero sense, because there’s just as much noise as there was before and Neal awake and wrapped up around her doesn’t do shit to change their current situation, but still, she’s feeling safer and she’s not about to look at a gifted horse in the mouth.

“Goodnight,” she says, smiling a little. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he yawns, shifting a bit against her to get more comfortable. “’Night.”


	2. As a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for **canonical character death** and all the subsequent suffering. My apologies.

“This is _not_ gonna hold,” she warns, eyeing the tent sceptically as she tries to hold it down against the blowing wind, to give Neal enough time to plant the stakes in the sand.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he finally concedes, dropping on the ground and throwing away the stake in his hand. “We don’t need it. We can watch the stars.”

Emma shakes her head with a fond smile, moving to sit right next to him and glancing at the sky, suddenly dark and covered in stars. Neal throws his arm around her shoulders, while she grabs his hand and snuggles against him, unafraid to enjoy the closeness. She’s missing the glasses and the pony-tail, but they probably look a lot like the two kids living in a car that they used to be. 

“Remember when we used to do this all the time?” he asks, and she glances up at him to see that he’s smiling widely.

“Yeah, I remember you used to pull crazy stories for the constellations out of your ass,” she supplies, head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I didn’t pull them out of my ass, it’s _pirate_ folklore. And probably a couple that _Hook_ pulled out of his ass,” Neal replies, acting offended at her accusation. 

Emma laughs, feeling impossibly light. “I’m glad you can tell me now,” she says. She can recognize now that, although the majority of what he revealed about his past is true, he had had to make sure that his story sounded believable to her ears. It’s good that she can have all of him now.

“Yeah,” he says, slowly. He squeezes her hand, and she instinctively knows that the mood has changed.

“Hey, what is it?” she frowns, glancing at him as worry makes its way into her stomach.

“Nothing,” he smiles broadly, the way he does when he’s sad. “I just wish we had had more time, that’s all.”

Emma opens her mouth slightly to answer, but she’s unsure about what to say. There’s a knot in her stomach and tears pushing behind her eyes, as if her body already knew what he’s talking about but she couldn’t hear what it was shouting at her, yet.

“What do you mean?” she asks, shifting so that she can face him better, her hands still gripping his. “We _have_ time, I’m right here.”

There are unshed tears in his eyes, but he keeps on smiling. “No, Emma,” he says, reaching for her face with his free hand to wipe away a couple of tears that she hadn’t even realized had escaped. “You are dreaming,” he explains, gently.

She knows he’s right. She doesn’t know _how_ , but she’s sure of it.

“It’s a good dream,” she murmurs, feeling like she’s about to get lost in a sobbing fit that will tear her apart from the inside.

“I suppose it is,” he says, just as quietly. He grabs her shoulder and gently pulls her towards him, inviting her into a hug that she accepts without question.

Face buried in his shoulder and fingers holding onto his jacket as if that could be enough to keep him with her, she asks, in a whisper: “Will you be there when I wake up?”

The moment of silence that follows seems to stretch for hours. “No,” he finally says, one hand buried in her hair and the other stroking her back. “But you’ll be okay. I know you will.”

She isn’t so sure of that. Instead of voicing the thought, she tries to sink more into him. Maybe if she manages to become one with him, to have him physically be a part of her the way he’s actually been since when they’ve become each other’s home so many years ago, then he’ll get to stay.

“I love you, Emma,” he says, the slightest quiver in his voice. “I always have, I always will.”

She nods against his shoulder, tears blurring her vision and the urge to scream pressing against her chest.

“Please, don’t go,” she manages to get out, a strangled whisper that she knows will be ignored.

 

She wakes, and she’s alone.


	3. As a thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This came early because I got a lovely anon in my inbox on Tumblr and they made me want to update real bad LOL. Thanks again, anon!  
>  So. This is clichéd, Living In The Bug Era fluff where Emma is sick and everything is lovely. Because I needed to rocover after the last one LOL.

As he catches sight of their car – which, yellow as it is, tends to attract attention on grey, winter days –, Neal makes a serious attempt at stopping with the shivers, because he’s already had to listen to Emma’s lecture on how dumb it is to run around in a hoodie when it’s freezing outside, and he’s not too eager to put himself through an ‘I told you so’.

Of course, he’s still noticeably cold when he quickly gets on the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him as fast as possible to make sure that Emma doesn’t get hit by any more cold wind than she has to.

“Your nose is about to fall off,” she reprimands, which is funny from someone who is currently holed up in the backseat under all the pieces of clothing in their possession, his jacket included, and is still freezing.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, quickly. “I got you this,” he adds, showing her their new blanket and reaching for her so that he can try and tuck her in somehow – which is not easy with all those random clothes and the absence of a bed; they should lift a wallet and look for some cheap motel.

“Did you steal that from some homeless guy?” Emma asks, raising her eyebrows sceptically but making no move to refuse the extra layer.

“Jeez, thanks,” he replies, with a small grin. He knows better than to take it personally when she’s cranky like that, _especially_ if she has a cold. “I bought it,” he adds, which he actually did, mainly because it’s difficult to successfully hide a big blanket and he’s not about to get himself arrested when Emma is sick as a dog.

He manages to find a way to turn her into something close to a giant burrito, and he can’t help grinning at the sight. He then proceeds to climb into the backseat, because body heat is good and _he_ is freezing as well. He’s not getting any layer off her, so the best way he can get some warmth for himself is snuggling.

“You’ll get sick too,” she warns, even as she tries to make room for him to migrate.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

And they are stuck in a small car together anyway, so even if he does get sick he doubts that it will be because he stayed in the backseat instead of the driver seat.

He miraculously manages to move Emma half-way on his lap without completely messing up all the work he did on the clothes and blanket, and he grins at the happy sound she makes when she snuggles against him – probably because with all that stuff on her she can’t feel that he’s freezing his ass off.

“God, I love you,” she mumbles, as he wraps his arms tightly around her.

 

(Needless to say, he does get sick.)


	4. When I'm dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for **canonical character death**. I'm sorry, I have Feels and I'm bringing you all down with me.

There’s only one rule to this: he _can’t_ tell them.

When Morpheus – because he’s in the business of befriending _gods_ now, he can’t even have a normal afterlife – first told him the condition to this favour he’s doing him, Neal just shrugged it off, too eager to see his family again to consider it all as anything short of a blessing.

He can’t tell. So what? That’s a small price to pay, he thought.

Except sometimes it’s hard, because when the dead walk into people’s dreams the whole thing becomes much more real than he’s comfortable with, and sometimes it’s difficult to look at Henry’s teary eyes and not assure him that he’s _real_ , that this isn’t perfect and that he wishes he could be _there_ for him, but he can visit and he hasn’t completely left him, he never will.

Henry is the one who gives him the hardest time, because he always looks at him like he really, _really_ wants to believe that he isn’t just a dream, like he’s just waiting for the tiniest confirmation – and Neal always has to deny him that, because he can’t lose this, he can’t afford not to hold up to his end of the bargain.

His father never questions that it’s merely a dream, and he seems to live it more as a punishment than a blessing. Neal tries not to visit him as much.

Emma is too much of a realist to allow herself to hope that it’s real. She’s never been that much of a believer, and Neal has never been more grateful for it.

“You know, I was coming to meet you for lunch,” she says, her eyes fixed on the road as she drives. It’s a sunny day, and there’s the sea on their right. Neal wonders if this is Emma imagining that they are driving towards the home they never had in Tallahassee.

“…You were?” he asks, his mouth twisting in a slight, surprised smile.

“Yeah,” she replies, quietly, turning towards him with a sad look on her face. He hates it. “But then there was all that mess with Pan and— I just thought we’d have time. Later.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, quietly. Perhaps he shouldn’t be, because for Emma everything would probably be better if she had already made the decision to walk away from him _before_ shit hit the fan, but he’s alone with – hopefully – many, _many_ years to spend in the afterlife before he can even _hope_ to get Emma and Henry back, maybe it’s okay to be a little selfish. To be glad that Emma wanted him too.

They drive quietly for what could easily be an eternity, and he enjoys the feeling of calm that their home with four wheels brings to him. Sometimes he regrets letting go of her so much that it threatens to choke him.

“I still love you,” Emma says, shiny eyes still fixed on the road and a small tremor in her voice. “I don’t think I know how to stop,” she adds, letting out a small lifeless laugh as she turns towards him, her expression pleading, as if he could somehow fix it.

He wishes he had an answer, a magic cure to offer her, but he’s never figured out how to properly let go of her either.

“I love you too,” he can only say, reaching for her to catch the tear sliding down her cheek. Suddenly, the car isn’t moving anymore. “And I _know_ I’ll never stop.”

She smiles, fondly rolling her eyes at him and blinking some more tears away. As she takes a shaky breath, she reaches for his hand, still resting on her cheek, and she grips it tight. “Is this real?” she asks, a tentatively hopeful expression on her face as she looks up to him.

He swallows, pushing back the urge to yell that yes, _yes_ , it _is_ , he’s _there_ , it’s _him_. The price would be too high to pay. He needs this.

“It’s as real as it can be,” he resolves to say, and at least that earns him a scoff.

“Great, now you’ve become all cryptic,” she comments, and she’s smiling slightly, but he can see that that hope is slowly fading away. It breaks his heart a little.

But it’s for the best, really. Morpheus said that he can’t challenge the notion that death is death. It’s a rule of magic, and he won’t allow him any more favours if he tries to mess with it. No hope. Just some small treats.

He smiles, leaning forward to lay a kiss on her forehead and pull her into a tight hug. It’ll have to be enough.


	5. Muffled, from the other side of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neal Lives AU, set in 4x07. Because I felt so sorry for Emma there, I wanted her to have someone. Emotional hurt/comfort.

Emma snorts, half-way between hilarity and simple hysterics. She should have seen it coming, of course he’d manage to track her down.

“Go away, Neal,” she says, loud enough that he can hear through the locked door to the passenger seat.

He’s bent over so that he can look at her through the window, and he gives her a worried once over before answering – which is simply ridiculous, because she is not the one in danger here.

“Yeah, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You okay?”

“I’m _fine_. Just go.”

He stares at her for a few seconds, probably evaluating that she’s nowhere near fine enough by his standards, then he scoffs. “I think I’ll pass. I love you, I’m not leaving you out here alone. And if that means that I have to sit on the hood of the car all night, so be it.”

She glares at him, although it admittedly lacks conviction, because in spite of her words being alone is the _last_ thing that she’d want. She _should_ stay away from everybody, for their own good, but everything feels so overwhelming and out of control that being alone with her thoughts, when she can spiral down thinking of how _isolated_ this leaves her, of how she seemed to have found her family – a beautifully extended version of it, actually – and now she’s bound to lose them all simply because of who she _is_ —

No, she doesn’t really want to be left alone. She almost wants to smile, because she knows that Neal is dumb enough to actually stay there all night.

When their eyes meet, he simply raises his eyebrows expectantly, and she sighs, unlocking the door.

He quickly slides in, rubbing his hands together. “Thanks. I was freezing my ass off,” he says, casually. Like he isn’t sitting in a car with a nuclear bomb.

“You should have just gone home,” she comments, drily, eyes fixed in front of her.

“Nah. It’s a nice night.”

She snorts, tears pushing behind her eyes as a flood of words starts chocking her: she wants so badly to talk it out, to let what she’s feeling out and allow him to just take a look at it and nonchalantly go ‘Well, that’s not so bad, we can work with that’, but she swallows it all, every muscle in her body tense with terror at the thought of slipping up and doing something that she can’t take back.

God, he’s so stupid, he shouldn’t be here.

“Hey,” he calls, gently touching her arm to get her attention and waiting until she’s turned around to continue. “You won’t hurt me,” he says, softly, like he really believes it.

She can only snort. “I almost did,” she points out, although it somehow comes out sounding like a plea.

He stares for a few seconds, then he inhales sharply, his expression turning lighter. “Yeah, well, the other day I almost stabbed Henry in the eye with a wooden sword, I don’t see you revoking parental rights.”

She can’t help laughing a little at that, releasing a bit of the tension in her shoulders as the atmosphere relaxes. Then she realizes what the consequences of that could be.

“You know what,” she says, taking a grip and turning towards him. “I think you are full of shit. You are _terrified_ of magic.”

By all accounts, he should be running away, screaming in horror.

Neal opens his mouth to answer, then he closes it.

Yeah, that’s what she thought.

She turns away, playing with her hands on her lap and staring at her fingers, trying to shut down her thoughts – she can’t: she knows he’s scared, she knows he’s pretending like he isn’t because he doesn’t want to hurt her, but he’s never been a fan of her powers, and, honestly, how could those feelings have improved now that she has been proven to _actually_ be dangerous? He’ll keep up the act for a little while, but eventually he’ll leave, and she can’t even fault him for that.

“Yes, I am,” he finally admits. Emma takes a deep breath, but she says nothing. “ _Yet_ ,” he adds, scooting a little closer, which makes her automatically turn her head in his direction. “I’m here. Alone in a car with you in the middle of nowhere. That’s because I trust you, magic or no magic.”

He looks so _convinced_ of what he’s saying, staring at her in the eyes and leaning against her seat like he _isn’t_ afraid of touching her— tears start pushing again, and this time she’s pretty sure he can see them.

“You are so dumb,” she mumbles, blinking quickly to try to clear her vision.

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, as he moves to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her into a hug. She should push him away, but she can’t bring herself to. “But that has nothing to do with me trusting you,” he adds.

She just shakes her head against his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his torso and the opposite hand gripping his arm.

“Look,” he says, quietly. “You’ll figure it out, as always. Just—just let us help you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“They were scared,” she whispers, choking out the words as she all too easily conjures up the expression on her parents’ face when they saw what she did. “Of me.”

He sighs, rubbing her back. “Magic can be scary sometimes, especially if you didn’t see it coming,” he agrees. “Especially if—if it’s someone you love using it, and suddenly they seem so _different_. But, Emma— that was just a moment, okay? Now they only want you back with them, they don’t care if you have powers, they just want to help. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Maybe,” she concedes, quietly. “I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“You can learn how not to,” he assures, although she’s pretty sure he has no idea if it’s true. That’s just blind faith, hope, that kind of stuff— they are spending too much time around her mother. “I’m sure Regina has a tip or two. Or my dad. Who better than the Dark One to teach you how not to wreak havoc with your powers, am I right? You could start a support group.”

She scoffs, amused. “You’re ridiculous.” She’s so glad that she has him.


	6. Not said to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tallahassee AU. This was probably meant to be sad, but I made it fluffy instead. ~~I never thought I'd see the day I'd do this, but here we are.~~ Swanfire + Henry.

“Henry,” Neal complains, a very clear pleading note in his voice. “Please, I gotta go.”

Henry doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting go of his father’s jacket, nor does he seem willing to take pity on him and at least stop bawling his eyes out, insisting that he doesn’t want him to leave.

“I have work,” Neal insists, sending her a look that yells ‘Please, please, _help_ me’. Emma can’t fight off a grin, which probably makes her a bad person deserving of a seat in hell, but Neal is so _weak_ when it comes to Henry crying, it’s adorable and hilarious.

“No!” Henry cries, and although Emma is behind him she can imagine his huge eyes full of tears staring into his father’s soul.

Neal gapes for a couple of seconds. “Buddy,” he tries again. “I love you, and I’ll be back soon, but I need to go now.”

Before Henry can yell some more, Emma decides that it’s time to stop enjoying her husband’s suffering and intervene.

“Come on, Henry, let Daddy go,” she says, stepping forward to pick him up. That doesn’t help that much though, because not only Henry starts actively trying to jump off, kicking like crazy – that’s what she gets for trying to be helpful: kicks in the stomach –, but he keeps crying and reaching for Neal, calling after him when he moves for the door.

Neal pauses, looking like he’s ripping his own heart out, and Emma rolls her eyes fondly.

“Just go, he’ll be fine,” she assures. Neal glances at her, still looking very, _very_ torn – you’d think he’s abandoning his kid in a forest or something –, but eventually he nods.

“Uh, okay. Bye. I’ll, uh, I’ll be back soon. Sorry, buddy.”

He bolts out of the door, followed by Henry’s gut-wrecking screams: it’s gonna take a while to calm him down, and Emma is the one who gets to see to that. Lucky her.

Next time they get pregnant, _Neal_ is going to be the stay-at-home parent – who knows, maybe he’ll even learn not to cave at the first couple of tears.


	7. In a way I can't return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~Hello, angst, my old friend.~~ Warning for (implied) canonical character death.

“Who’s there?” Baelfire asks, hands gripping his sword and eyes vigilant.

Although his father has considerably toned down his Dark One terroristic vibe, he’s still fairly intimidating for most people, so if there is someone wandering around the castle it’s either a poor soul who lost their way _or_ someone looking to steal some magic item. With Baelfire’s luck? Probably the latter.

“Neal?” a woman asks, coming up from behind a tree and looking at him like he’s— well, the son of the Dark One, for instance. Actual living proof that the guy has a life and doesn’t just sit around brooding and scheming all day and night.

“Sorry?” he replies, still not putting the sword down. She’s dressed in unusual clothing, and he wouldn’t call it an armour of some sort but she doesn’t look all that harmless either. Not to mention that you can never rule out ‘powerful evil sorceress’ judging from looks alone.

“You— how are you here?” she asks, a little chocked up, and he sees another woman coming from behind her, looking a little sad and vaguely impatient at the same time. He notices that she has her hand ready in a motion that’s familiar enough to him that he’s willing to bet that _she_ has magic. Which is just fantastic.

“You’re the ones trespassing, shouldn’t I be asking the questions?” he asks, with a hint of amusement. Just in case they are not there to kill him: he’d hate to make them change their mind by being too hostile.

“We’re just passing through,” the second woman says, firmly. “Let’s go, Emma,” she adds, but her companion is still staring at him like she’s seeing _something_ — like she _knows_ him. He’s fairly sure that he has never seen her before in his life.

“My father doesn’t really like trespassers,” Baelfire informs them, half out of courtesy in case they get strange ideas about sticking around any longer and half because that Emma is starting to creep him out a little. “You really should get going.”

Emma takes a step forward, and the other woman grabs her arm, shooting her a warning look.

“Just a second, please,” Emma just asks, quietly, and the woman holds her stare for a few seconds before glancing at him briefly and then sighing, defeated. She lets her go.

Emma takes a few steps towards him, and Baelfire automatically raises his sword a little, unsure of what to expect. She doesn’t even flinch, eyes full of tears as she stops just an inch before the tip of his sword. She gets out a strained smile, and he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do with his face.

“I love you,” she says, like she’s trying to pour all the sadness in the world in just three words. “I—I know you can’t understand now, but—but I do, and I miss you, a lot— but I’m glad you are safe and—and happy. Are you happy?”

“Uh, I am?” he replies, slowly, and it comes out sounding a lot like a question, because frankly he’s not following. He’s never _met_ her before. Surely he hasn’t known her enough for her to say that kind of stuff and _mean_ it – because it’s painfully obvious that she means every word.

And, well, he guesses he _is_ happy anyway: his papa is still the Dark One, but he came for him, he _saved_ him from Neverland, and he’s— not all bad, these days. Things are okay. He’s okay.

He just doesn’t get why this Emma seems to care so much about that.

“Good,” she nods, another pained smile twisting her lips as her eyes drop to the ground. “I hope you find your Tallahassee. I really do,” she adds, looking up to him once again. There are a couple of stray tears on her cheeks, but she’s still smiling, and she has turned around anyway before he can so much as _think_ of a reaction – what the hell is a ‘tallahassee’ anyway?

She quickly walks back to the other woman, and she ignores him when he calls after her to wait, because he’s confused as hell, there’s a strange woman crying and confessing her love to him, he’s standing there like an idiot and she hasn’t even _tried_ to explain—

The woman magically puffs herself and Emma away in a cloud of purple smoke – she _was_ a witch after all: cookie for Bae! –, leaving him alone with his sword pointed at nothing and his stomach tied in knots for some reason.


	8. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-indulgent S3B AU: Neal was cursed alongside everyone else, ~~and _won’t_ die. ever. he’s immortal.~~

There’s no small search party walking through the woods and looking for the people who went missing recently – because never let it be said that Storybrooke can have a minute of peace or two –, so, in retrospect, it’s more than a little ridiculous that out of _all_ of them the random _flying monkey_ – because those are a thing, apparently – would go ahead and grab _him_ specifically.

Emma is beginning to think that someone up there doesn’t want the two of them to spend more than ten minutes in each other’s company or something.

“Neal!” she yells, automatically taking off after them, even though that damn thing is _flying_ , how the hell is she supposed to keep up? She could try firing her gun, but there is too high a chance that she’ll hit _him_ instead, it isn’t worth the risk.

Fortunately enough, Neal takes care of it on his own: Emma just gathered that he started kicking and punching until the damn thing finally let go of him – or lost its grip, one of the two –, except they are too many feet up in the air already, and her stomach sinks very unpleasantly as he falls down.

He manages to break his fall by grabbing a tree branch, then he lets go, dropping soundly on the ground.

“Neal!” she calls, running straight towards him and landing hard on her knees, her hands reaching for him so that she can pull him a bit closer, make sure that he’s all in one piece.

“I’m fine,” he assures, offering a brief smile that looks a bit pained – unsurprisingly, that was quite the drop – and then glancing at the sky with a distrustful frown. Emma can’t help shivering at the thought of that thing coming back for him.

He seems whole, aside from dirt on his clothes and tears in his jacket where that thing grabbed him, he’s _okay_ , and Emma can’t help letting out a relieved laugh, her heart still in her throat.

Now, in her defence, she’s high on adrenaline, a second ago she thought he’d _die_ , and she’s no longer used to how damn stressful Storybrooke is: she shouldn’t be blamed for acting impulsively in the heat of the moment, alright?

She ends up pulling him into a kiss, still grinning – a touch maniacally, perhaps – against his mouth because he’s _alive_ , and gripping him so tight that she wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel her nails through his clothes. Neal, from his part, is too surprised to move for barely a moment, then he’s kissing her back just as enthusiastically.

And that’s when Emma feels a familiar wave of magic erupting from them, spreading a warm and calming sensation through her and blowing in the wind.

She _knows_ what it is, yet when they pull apart she blinks and asks: “Did we just…?”

Neal seems a bit dazed, but he nods. “Yep. I, uh, I remember.”

Okay, then. True Love’s Kiss. That’s— yeah. Great.

Honestly, though? She’s not even _that_ surprised.

When she turns towards their audience, she finds that obviously the curse was broken for them too, judging by their expressions, and her parents are looking at the two of them like Emma just announced that she’s giving them another grandchild – they are a little too invested in her love life, as far as she’s concerned; she’s half convinced that now they’ll just start organizing the wedding.

There are a few moments of really awkward silence, then Neal clears his throat, catching her attention. “I, uh, love you too, for the record,” he announces, with a teasing grin on his face.

Emma feels some of the tension melting, even as she realizes that she’s still holding onto his jacket, and she snorts, offering a small, amused smile. “Shut up.”


	9. Through a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S3B AU, No Henry-Pan Switch, Everybody Lives. David doesn’t go to Emma when it’s time for the lunch date, so she still doesn’t show up and she and Neal agree to be Just Friends. Regret and creative apologies ensue.

Henry has been weird the whole afternoon.

One could argue that there isn’t a single non-weird gene in that kid’s body, but Neal is pretty sure that _giggling_ while doing math isn’t normal, even for him. Especially when the last time that Neal witnessed him doing homework he had been pretty tempted to glue him to the chair, since he stood up every two minutes and it looked like there was a good chance that he’d have to drop him off at Regina’s with about half of the work done – which, Neal has been informed multiple times, would result in his untimely and painful demise by fireball; that woman has a flare for the dramatic, she’s definitely his dad’s apprentice.

“What’s so funny?” Neal finally decides to ask.

Henry’s head snaps up, and he bites the inside of his cheeks to try and stop grinning, but it fails miserably. “Nothing,” he declares, innocently. “I’m just happy to spend time with you, Dad, that’s all.”

The only thing that could have made that sound more suspicious would have been if he had gone for ‘Daddy’.

Neal raises his eyebrows sceptically. “Did you do something that I should know about?” he asks. “Something that will get us both in trouble with your mothers?”

“Nope,” Henry declares, happily, before ducking back into his homework.

Neal shakes his head slightly, unsure if he believes him, and he stands up from his bed to take a peek over Henry’s shoulder.

“Weren’t you on page fifty-seven half an hour ago?” he points out.

“It’s a really hard problem,” Henry replies, throwing another very innocent smile at him.

Neal is beginning to wonder if he should try harder to grill it out of him, debating that, yes, it’s suspicious and Henry has _precedents_ , such as stealing explosives to blow up magic, but there is no impending crisis to push him to do anything particularly stupid and he’s a good kid, can it be anything _that_ worrying?

He doesn’t have time to think about it much longer, because he suddenly hears music coming from the street, and before he can even recognize the _tune_ Henry has jumped out of the chair, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the window as he says: “Hear that? Let’s check it out!”

Judging by the way his kid is beaming, he has the suspicion that he’s about to discover what the weird giggling was all about.

As he opens the window, his brain quickly registers that the song is _Only You_ , by Yaz, which causes his stomach to do a very familiar backflip. And _another_ one when he looks down and he discovers that the music is coming from Henry’s stereo, which Emma Swan in the flash is holding up with a really nervous expression on her face. He swears he can see her blushing from up there.

 _Came back only yesterday, I'm moving farther away, want you near me_ —

“Emma?” he calls out, frowning. He glances at Henry, who just grins more widely than he thought humanly possible, and Neal is trying _really_ hard not to read into this, but— _how_ exactly he is supposed to read Emma showing up by his window blasting their song?

_All I needed was the love you gave, all I needed for another day—_

“What are you doing?” he adds, the corners of his mouth pushing to twist upwards. He shouldn’t read into it, he shouldn’t read into it, she was _clear_ , he shouldn’t—

 _And all I ever knew— only you_ —

“I’m apologizing, I think,” Emma shouts, above the music. “Can you come down?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah— just a sec—” Neal quickly says, nodding frantically as he pulls back from the window. He looks down on Henry, who’s staring at him and still grinning. “Is it okay, if I—?”

“Yup,” Henry immediately interrupts. “I’ll be right here. I can survive ten minutes without supervision, I promise.”

Yeah, yeah, he knows.

Emma turned off the music, but Neal can still hear it bouncing in his head. And his stomach is all messed up. And his hands are starting to sweat. And he hates that his stupid brain has already taken off into wish-land and is hoping that what this means is that Emma changed her mind and she wants to give him a second chance.

It doesn’t really help that he can’t seem to find another explanation.

“Okay, okay— homework, finish your homework—” he ends up saying, not registering Henry’s reply as he heads out.

He almost trips down the stairs, because he’s an idiot, and soon he’s standing in front of Emma. She has put the stereo down, and she has her arms crossed, her face screaming that she’s as uncomfortable as one can possibly get.

Even as he can’t really breathe right, Neal automatically grins at her when she meets his eyes.

“So— stealing my moves, now, are we?” he comments, and that gets a smile out of her, as her shoulders relax a little.

She rolls her eyes. “It was Henry’s idea.”

Neal can’t help snorting, amused. “The kid learns fast,” he comments. “Although I’m a bit worried about you asking for advice to an eleven-year-old.”

“I didn’t—” Emma pauses, shaking her head. “He eavesdropped,” she explains, still smiling slightly. “I was talking to my parents.”

Of course he eavesdropped. Neal can bet that if he looked up now he’d see Henry watching them through the window – too bad he doesn’t think he can take his eyes off Emma.

“You still took the advice,” he points out, lightly.

“It was good advice.” Emma pauses, taking a sharp breath. “Alright, look,” she begins, quickly, her eyes darting away from him. “I wanted to apologize. For standing you up.”

“You already did,” he points out, shrugging. “And I told you, it’s fine—”

“But I was on my way,” she cuts in, giving him a look that he isn’t sure how to read. “I was on my way, and then I got cold feet, and—and I’ve always been good at getting scared when something is important and running into the opposite direction.”

He isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to say to that.

“I get it,” he ends up saying. “And really, it’s alright, we don’t have to—”

“It’s not alright,” she interrupts. “Because what I’m trying to say is that I—I regret it. I regret not showing up. I was relieved, at first, when you said that we could be friends and nothing more, no problem— I mean, we’re good at it, we make good friends, it’s just— not what I want.”

He swallows heavily, and although he feels like it’s his turn to say something, _anything_ , his tongue is apparently tied all of a sudden.

She doesn’t want to be friends. And he really gets the feeling that she doesn’t mean it in a ‘never speak to me again’ way.

“So— I was wondering—” she finally continues, hesitantly fixing her eyes on his face. “Would you like to have lunch, one of these days? I promise I’ll show up,” she adds, throwing in a little nervous laugh that makes him want to step forward and wrap her in his arms.

At this point, he _definitely_ should be saying something.

“I— yes. Of course,” he manages to get out. His heart is racing and his knees have turned to Jell-O, he is pretty sure he’s soon going to melt from relief, but at least Emma, by the looks of it, isn’t doing much better: she breaks into a disbelieving smile, letting out a sharp breath and nodding as her mouth opens and closes intermittently.

“Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Thanks. That’s— great.”

“What, you thought I’d say no?” he snorts.

Emma shrugs. “I mean, I did stand you up when _you_ asked.”

He’s pretty sure that she could stand him up again and show up with flowers or something a day later, and he’d still accept another date.

“Can’t scare me off that easily,” he jokes, offering a smile.

Emma looks at him like he’s the most delightful thing that she’s ever seen, just like she used to, and he swears that he’s gonna do right by her, this time. He’s so glad that she’s giving him a chance to.


	10. A whisper in the ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neal Lives AU to episode 4x10. For those who haven’t seen it/don’t remember, the Ice Queen cast a spell that is eventually supposed to make everyone kill each other (so everyone is trying to chain themselves to something, lock themselves in cages, etc.), leaving only Emma and Elsa immune, so the two of them must go look for the ingredients for the counter-spell. Tearful goodbyes ensue.  
>    
>  Technically it’s angst, but with implied happy ending, since we know that everything works out eventually and nobody actually dies. 

Her first instinct is – surprise, surprise – running. She automatically eyes the corridor behind Neal and the people moving around, and she thinks that she could make an escape, a quick, clean one. To go where, she doesn’t really know, but at least she would spare herself— _this_.

Goodbyes are not her thing. They really, really aren’t.

“So,” Neal sighs, pursing his lips as he sways a little on his feet, his hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket.

Yeah, _so_.

Because goodbyes may not be her thing, but they seem to kinda be _their_ thing.

“Do you have a plan?” Emma asks, swallowing heavily as she forces herself to raise her eyes on him – because she is an adult and she’s supposed to behave like one; right.

Neal shrugs. “I know a good hiding spot in the library, Belle showed me, few weeks ago. I can lock myself in.”

“You can also break out,” she points out, a small smile tugging at her lips when he grins at the remark.

“I’ll make sure to leave any and all tools out.”

Emma has a feeling that there’s a chance that he’ll come up with something anyway. He’s resourceful, always has been.

Still, she refrains from commenting on it, because they are running on limited time here and they should just— get it over with.

“Be careful?” she offers, her voice a little strained, but in all honesty it comes out all too dignified, considering the tears pushing behind her eyes, the knot in her stomach and the lump in her throat.

“I’m not the one who’ll be busy saving all of our asses,” he replies, lightly. He’s smiling, doing his best to look calm even though he’s probably just as scared as she is.

She snorts, shaking her head slightly and stubbornly trying to blink away a veil of tears as she steps forward, wrapping her arms around him at the same time as Neal pulls her closer.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he lies with surprising confidence, rubbing his hand up and down her back.  

“What if I can’t do it?” she chokes out, literally hiding in the crook of his neck a second later, because everyone here is expecting her to save them all, _again_ , because she’s the Savior and she should be able to do this, but what if she _isn’t_? What if they all die and it’s all her fault, for not being good enough?

She has a family that wants her, finally, and she might just lose them because she can’t hold onto them tight enough.

“Look,” Neal sighs heavily, his chest raising against her. “Just try your best, yeah? It’s always been plenty good enough.”

He makes it sound so simple, and she can’t help smiling a little. “Right,” she says, her voice thin as she closes her eyes for a moment, trying to forget everything that is happening around them, that they have time racing against them.

He squeezes her a little tighter, and she knows that it’s time to let go.

“I love you,” he whispers in her ear, before pulling away and laying kiss on her forehead, as he often does – because they are ‘taking it slow’ and he’s sweet like that; she kinda wants to punch him.

He smiles at her, and she forgets to at least attempt to reciprocate as he moves away from her, keeping his hands on her shoulders for as long as he can.

She grabs his hand at the last minute, squeezing his fingers and getting out a ‘Me too’ before letting him go.

His smile widens, and she’s pretty sure he isn’t dry-eyed either as he turns around, quickly walking away from her.

It’s good that he didn’t hesitate any further, because she feels the overwhelming urge to run after him.


	11. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from ‘That Was Definitely Not What The Prompt Meant’, an autobiography by me. Everybody Lives AU, Pregnant!Emma.

Neal gets woken up by a pretty solid kick in his leg.

“Uh, what?” he grunts, his eyes only open a quarter of the way as he twists his torso so that he’s facing Emma. She’s awake, and staring at him with murder in her eyes. Neal is nowhere nearly awake enough to try and guess what it is that he did this time.

“You were _snoring_ ,” she supplies anyway, and even his foggy brain can detect the frankly unbelievable amount of resentment in her voice.

“I don’t snore,” he automatically retorts. He’s still in a very precarious position, lying on his right side but cricking his neck to face Emma, because he’s somehow holding out hope that he’ll manage to get back sleep soon.

“How would you _know_?” she spits out. “You were _sleeping_.”

“Okay, fine,” he mutters. “Sorry.” His eyes close almost of their own volition, and he curls a little on himself, half-way back to the Dream World already.

Emma groans in frustration. “You know, I really love you,” she declares. “But I’m gonna kill you.”

Neal mumbles noncommittally. “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”

(He’s way too sleepy to register that that was probably a very, _very_ bad idea, not before it’s too late anyway.)

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” Emma bursts out, giving him a pretty vigorous shove. “Am I disturbing your sleep? _Poor_ thing, it must be so _horrible_ not to be able to get any sleep.”

Right. Lately she’s been having a lot of trouble sleeping. He thought the worst of it had been at the beginning of the pregnancy, but boy, was he wrong.

This whole conversation was probably a little too insensitive of him. Right.

He rolls over so that he’s lying on his left side. “Uh, right, sorry,” he says, quickly. _Come on, look alive. It’s who knows how late in the night, but look alive_. “Can’t sleep?”

Emma snorts. “ _No_ , of course I can’t sleep. My back hurts, my legs hurt, my _neck_ hurts, and I’ve got a belly the size of a _hot-air balloon_ here. Because _you_ got me pregnant.”

She’s glaring at him so hard that he’s pretty sure her eyes are glowing in the dark.

“I think it takes two to tango, Em,” he comments, smiling a little because he can’t help himself whenever the baby is brought up. They are having a little girl and he’s _dying_ to meet her.

The glare intensifies. “I hate you,” she declares, gruffly.

“I thought you loved me,” he points out, without bothering to hide his amusement.

“Well, I _changed my mind_.”

“Oh, come on.” He scoots a little closer, as much as he can with the baby in the way at least, and he reaches for her arm, rhythmically moving his fingertips up and down because that always seems to relax her a little. “How can I help?”

“Get a vasectomy.”

“Rude.”

There’s a pause, and he sees her shoulders relax a little after a while.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, tiredly. “I’m just exhausted and cranky.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he blatantly lies, and although he can’t see her face clearly in the dark he can imagine her fond eye-roll. “Come on, roll over,” he adds then. “I’ll give you a massage, see if that helps.”

He’s actually never been any good at those, but David is a thoughtful father, and upon noticing Emma’s eye-bags he decided to share with him the wisdom he acquired during Snow’s two pregnancies.

(Yes, that particular bonding time with the in-laws was a little bit awkward; ‘Here, Neal, I’ll teach how you massage your wife, who is also my daughter, and you can practice on _my_ wife, it’s gonna be fun’.)

Emma seems to consider him for a moment, then she shrugs. “Eh, what the hell, I’m already all broken, I don’t think you can do any more damage,” she finally declares, clumsily twisting around to lay on her left side.

“Thanks for the vote in confidence,” he grins, repressing a yawn as he reaches for the lamp on his bedside table – he sure as hell isn’t about to try this in the dark, he might break her for real.

“If you try singing me a lullaby I’m out though,” Emma declares, teasingly. Which, fair.

“Just close your eyes and relax,” he replies, gently. Hopefully, they will both get some more sleep tonight.


	12. In awe, the first time you realized it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I present to you… a ball of fluff, Enchanted Forest AU edition! It’s teenage!Swanfire in a wish!verse-like AU, meaning that the curse never happened, so Emma was raised by Snowing as a princess. Baelfire still ended up in Neverland and everything, but when he escaped the Shadow brought him to the Enchanted Forest instead of in our world. Then he met Emma and her parents took him in.  
>   
>  Technically it fits into [this verse right here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1220651), buuuut. The second fic of that verse respects the canon of the wish!verse from season 6, which means that Baelfire doesn’t even last long enough for Henry to remember him, so. yeah. You might want to disregard that and enjoy only the fluff LOL.

“So, I, uh, wanted to tell you something,” Baelfire begins, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding looking at her in the face.

Emma narrows her eyes, leaning forward a little as her fingers play with the grass. “Of course, go ahead,” she prompts, lightly.

He glances at her. “It’s something kinda big.”

She snorts, shaking her head slightly. “Bae, I tell you everything, and I mean _everything_ , you know you can always do the same, right?”

He doesn’t look all that convinced, and Emma’s smile falters a little. What could be so scary that he’d be afraid to tell her?

“Yeah, okay, so, uh—” He swallows heavily, shifting a little on his seat, and she automatically reaches over for his hand the way her mom does with her when she’s having an hard time opening up.

When he looks up to her, she smiles as comfortingly as she can, and he even smiles a little in return.

“Okay, I— remember how I told you that I don’t have parents?”

“Yes?” she prompts, lightly moving her thumb over his knuckles.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly— my dad is alive,” he suddenly gets out, so quick that she’s almost startled. “He’s very alive, probably will be alive for a long while, actually.”

Emma blinks at him. “Okay,” she says, slowly. “So— why don’t you find him?”

Baelfire snorts. “I know where he is,” he mumbles, bitterness creeping up in his voice as he curls a little more on himself and his eyes dart away from her. “I don’t want to see him.”

“He’s a bad man?” she asks, as gentle as she can make it.

Baelfire stays silent for so long that it seems an eternity, looking at her with barely masked fear and opening his mouth a couple of times, only to always close it without having said anything.

Emma does her best to be patient, even as curiosity tingles under her skin.

“He’s the monster in your dungeons,” he finally says, his voice quivering a little and hesitating before looking up at her once again.

“ _The Dark One_ is your father?” Emma can’t help gasping, her eyes threatening to shoot out of her head. Although her reaction was born more out of surprise than anything else – it’s not too easy to grasp the concept that _Baelfire_ , her best friend and overall the sweetest guy she’s ever met, has the same blood as _the Dark One_ –, she feels immediately guilty when he winces at that.

“Yeah,” he mutters. Because of the surprise, she has automatically lessened her hold on his hand, and she only realizes it when he takes it away, even pulling a little farther from her with his whole body.

She isn’t sure if that unpleasant feeling in her stomach is more due to the hurt caused by him retreating from her like that or to the sympathy she feels while witnessing his fear.

“Look, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you when I found out he was here—” he says, quickly. “I just— it’s not like I want to _talk_ to him or anything, and—and you know, I like it here, so—”

“Bae—” she tries to cut in, but he ignores her.

“—a—and I get that you’ll have to tell your parents now, and that you probably can’t have the son of the Dark One going around your castle, and maybe I shouldn’t have told you because now you are in a bad position, but I can go tell them myself if you—”

“Baelfire!” she pretty much yells, but at least this cuts him off. He’s looking at her with horribly fearful eyes, and she just wants to hug him. “I am not going to tell anyone,” she says, gently.

He blinks at her. “You— aren’t?”

She shrugs. “Not unless you want me to.” A pause. “ _Do_ you want me to?”

“Uh, not really,” he mutters, still looking quite shocked.

“Okay,” she smiles, with another shrug. “Then no telling it is. I mean, what does it really matter anyway?” He’s pretty much gaping at her, so her point probably didn’t really come across yet. “You’ve been part of this family for what, two years now? You’re nothing like him, who cares who your father is, right? This doesn’t change anything.”

“I—” He falters, breaking into a sudden, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, god, I love you,” he chuckles, looking at her with a huge smile and awe in his eyes.

This time, it’s Emma who gapes at him.

He seems to realize what he just said a second later, and his eyes widen in panic. “Oh, I mean— shit, I’m so sorry, that was so inapprop—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his apology, because it only takes a few moments before the shock wears off, her stomach does a very happy double backflip and she smiles from ear to ear, launching herself forward to pull him into a kiss.


	13. On a post-it note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little short, just a bit of family fluff starring Swanfire + Henry, but I hope you will enjoy it! I didn't want to let this go too long without an update.  
>   
>  Tallahassee AU, Emma still works in bail bonds.

“Finally,” Emma breathes out, smiling slightly at the sight of the door to her apartment. Her legs are numb from the exhaustion and the four-hours-long drive, her back is starting to ache annoyingly and she has a throbbing headache that says ‘Too much coffee, pal’, but she _made it_ , and she’s pretty sure that as soon as she gets in she won’t regret not having stopped at a motel, calling it a day and resolving to getting back to Neal and Henry tomorrow.

That is, if she _can_ get in, because she can’t feel the keys in any of her pockets. The only thing that she finds when she starts looking is her last piece of gum, her phone, and a post-it from Neal: she got up horribly early in the morning to catch up with the prick of the week, and Neal obviously wasn’t going to drag himself out of bed hours before he was supposed to get Henry to school, but he did leave her a ‘Good luck out there, kick ass! Love you.’ post-it on the coffee machine, so she’d see it first thing in the morning. He does that sometimes, and it never fails to improve her mood.

Still, what she is looking for right now are the damn _keys_ , which at this point she can only assume she left in the car.

But that definitely sounds like a ‘tomorrow’ problem.

She puffs, ringing the doorbell and waiting impatiently to be let her in. She hears movement from inside, and when she’s reasonably sure that Neal is close to the door she calls out: “I forgot my keys in the car!” as an explanation.

Ten bucks says Neal will laugh at her first thing.

As a matter of fact, when he opens the door he _is_ grinning like he finds it amusing.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” she waves him off, as he steps away to let her walk in. “Hi,” she adds then. Neal has Henry hanging on his back, making growling sounds and— apparently _eating_ his shoulder? “Hi, kid,” she says, her tone edging towards amusement.

Henry answers with another growl – or is that supposed to be a roar of some kind? – and a smile, then he goes right back to whatever he was doing, still glancing at her from time to time.

Emma’s eyes move to Neal, and at her questioning look he shrugs – or attempts to, considering that he has a kid on his back.

“He’s a dinosaur,” Neal explains, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss as a greeting. “He’s eating me, but he’s already had dinner so it’s cool.”

“Oh, well,” she snorts, shaking her head. “So long as he’s had dinner…”

It’s good to be home.


	14. Over a beer bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …I _knew_ I had forgotten to update something.  
>   
>  So, uh, this is another one of those ‘Neal Somehow Randomly Lives AU’ for season 4, with little to no context to go with it, my apologies XD Basically, if you don’t remember/haven’t watched, in s4A, during the Frozen arc, there was this freezing spell that makes you freeze to death. The victim there was Zelena disguised as Marian, here it’s Henry, so everyone is scrambling for a solution and nothing is okay.  
>  (He will be fine. Eventually. Somehow. ~~This is why these ficlets have no context LOL~~ )

When she hears someone knocking on the window of the car, Emma barely raises her eyes to check who it is – she’s hardly surprised by the result –, but Neal seems to take it as her permission to come in, rather than a mere acknowledgement of his presence.

“Hey,” he says, opening the door to the driver’s seat and sticking his head in. “Got room for another one in there?”

She could say no, she knows he’d go away. For a moment, she’s tempted to do just that and keep drowning in her own self-pity. But hell, Henry is his son too, and she has enough bottles in there to die of alcohol poisoning two times over, it’d be cruel not to share – she also may sort of _need_ some human contact.

“Sure,” she concedes, sliding to her left as much as she can as Neal hops into the driver’s seat and gets ready to insert himself in the back with her. They have done it so many times in the past, it’s familiar and comforting, if not too comfortable.

Neal does manage to sit beside her without injuring either of them or spilling any alcohol, though, and she wordlessly hands him a beer, to get started. She’s getting ready to move on to the Vodka.

“It’s smaller than I remembered,” he comments, stashing all the bottles to his right so he can sit more comfortably, his arm pressed against hers.

Emma snorts. “We grew up. Life managed to get crazier. And a hell of a lot shittier.”

Neal sighs, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head as if to say ‘Yep, nothing to say to that’ before taking a generous sip from his bottle.

“Still nothing?” she asks, swallowing back a wave of tears. She knows the answer, but as much as she _needed_ to get the hell out of there, not having Henry in front of her doesn’t do much to decrease her anxiety.

“They’ll find something,” he assures, the way he has been doing for _days_ now. Neal, and her mom, her dad, _everybody_ , even Regina and Gold are adamant on that, although they are the ones actually _working_ the problem, so they should be at least a tiny bit discouraged by how the only useful thing that they’ve managed so far is taking Henry’s heart right out so that the weird magical frostbite won’t reach it.

“So everyone keeps saying,” she replies, grimly. “I know that positive vibes are supposed to help, but in my experience the universe tries to screw me over whenever I _dare_ feeling a bit happy.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he mumbles.

They drink in silence for a while after that, and it’s not long before the Vodka starts disappearing alongside the beer – Neal drinks a bit from the bottle in his hands and a bit from the one she keeps passing him over; she isn’t sure if mixing like that is a good idea, but honestly neither of them is nearly as wasted as they need to be right now.

“You’re not thinking of bolting now, are you?” she asks, laughing a little – if she can call a laugh that lifeless sound coming out of her mouth –, when her brain-mouth filter is too far gone to stop her. “Because, I mean, things are so shitty, that would be the icing on the cake.”

It’d be unsurprising: Henry dying, Neal leaving, her parents walking away into the sunset with their new, perfect child, Regina going mad— and Emma left alone once again, missing her home.

“Nah,” Neal replies, without missing a beat. “I love you, I’m not leaving ever again.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s over before she can decide what to say to that.

“Sorry,” he quickly amends. “Shouldn’t have said that. It slipped. Sorry.”

Emma guesses she should be more rattled, but honestly? It’s not like it’s never been said before. It’s not like she wouldn’t want to have everything back. It’s just that their life is shitty and between his near-death experience, a Wicked Witch to defeat, some time travel and now Henry slowly dying— there hasn’t been much time to think about the two of them.

But with everything going wrong – and with the help of all that alcohol – love confessions in the most fitting location that she can think of don’t seem like much of a problem.

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugs, glancing up at him. “I mean, I still love you too. So.”

She takes another sip of Vodka, passing the bottle over with a bitter smile. They stare at each other for a few moments, Neal not taking the bottle, then they seem to decide what to do at the same time, because they both rush forward, pretty much _smashing_ their faces together.

It takes a couple of seconds before they start properly kissing, Neal trying to pull her closer even when there’s no more space between them and Emma sinking her fingers in his hair. They spill the bottle all over themselves, and when they realize it they start giggling like two idiots, mouths still pressed together and no intention of letting go of each other.

Neal starts trying to blindly grab the bottle to stash it aside, and he ends up spilling what’s left of it at their feet.

Emma doesn’t really care: she needs this, she _wants_ it, and frankly it feels so good to forget, if only for a moment, to be just the two of them: not parents, not poor bastards tangled up in all that magical nonsense, not the Savior and the son of the Dark One, just—just two idiots making out in the backseat of their yellow car, clinging to each other because there isn’t much else that they can count on, and feeling like that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr [as heytheredeann](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com), if you want.


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